Own Worst Enemy
by ultranaff
Summary: Mac struggles to come to terms with his feelings for Sweet Dee. Rated Teen for general swearing. Mac/Dee
1. Freud

**Chapter 1: Freud**

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"That's a bunch of horsecrap Charlie."

"No, don't say that Frank. He's like, super smart dude.." Charlie the scraggly haired bearded man asserted to the older but much shorter man. "I swear Frank, this Frodo guy, he's considered to be a freaking genius."

Frank Reynolds just rolled his eyes while his ex-son, Dennis, who was wiping down a tumbler behind the bar, smirked. "No Charlie, Einstein was the genius, Freud was actually a cocaine addict."

"Oh come on, that's not how you should talk about a national hero."

"What? He's not even American! He's from Austria or some shit, here let me see that-" Dennis grabbed the book from Charlie and flipped through the pages while Charlie muttered something about being too aggressive.

Mac, the 30 year old man, sat in the stool, puffing on a cigarette. Baby faced, with a rough brown beard that carried all his expressions, his eyes were small slits. He cut all his shirts to show off his burly arms. Tattooed in tribal celtic patterns, he lacked compassion and drank heavily. "What the hell are you guys talking about?" he burped into his beer.

"Well I guess Charlie thinks he's an expert on psychology now that he's found a book on Sigmund Freud in the trash." Dennis snorted.

"He's buying into this whole idea that people repress their true emotions and so that's the root of all psychological problems." Frank explained.

"What?" Charlie said. "That's not what I was talking about. I'm talking about Frodo-"

"His name is FREUD. You can't even read Charlie!" Dennis snapped

Mac took a sip of his beer. "Repressed thoughts. Sounds like a bunch of hocus pocus to me. The only book you need, Charlie my man, is the bible.."

Dee walked into the bar, dressed up in heels and makeup. She was tall, blonde with blue eyes, and the heels made her look ever taller. "So... what do you guys think?" The four men looked up at her.

"You look like giant bird." Mac said dryly, muffling his mouth with the beer bottle before anything else came out. The other guys looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

Deandra Reynolds rolled her eyes. "Whatever, the only bird I see here is you bunch of turkeys. Now if you don't mind, I'm off on my date."

"Hey wait a minute now Dee, I certainly do mind." Dennis, her older brother turned to her, book still in hand. "You don't get off work for another four hours."

She tapped a freshly manicured nail on her chin thoughtfully. "Well you see Dennis, the thing is, I don't really care about that." Dee's blonde hair bounced behind her as walked out. Mac's gaze lingered after her and he felt his stomach curdle. He looked at his bottle of Stella, and wondered if he accidentally drank Charlie's cheap sewage-beer again.

"Can you believe her?" Dennis snapped. "She leaves early to go on a date and totally ditches out on her job. AND disrespects my authority as bar-owner. I could just.. I could just..." he wrangled the air with his fingers, a psychotic expression passing his face before blinking back to reality.

Charlie cocked a brow, reeling back slightly from Dennis's manicness. "Dude you should really consider reading up on this Frodo guy man. This guy says, that people who don't like, you know, acknowledge their subconscious thoughts and whatever, that they hide in their brain , they could have huge mental problems."

"What are you saying Charlie? Are you saying I have mental problems?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying dude. 'cause you have to admit, you've got a _lot_ of repressed energy."

"Don't psychoanalyze me Charlie!" Dennis yelled, "when _you're_ the one who's borderline retarded!"

The bickering commence and Mac lazily pushed himself out of his seat. He had thirst for some excitement. He needed to go gamble, or go to strip club, or something. Something to fill the void that was constantly gnawing at him. Unfortunately, the bar was not generating enough income as usual, so Mac was flat broke. All he could do was step outside and lit up a cigarette. The air in Philly was freezing cold and he wondered if Dee took a jacket with her when she left.

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	2. Morning Drinks

**Chapter 2: Morning Drinks**

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><p>How do you reach inside and get rid of that old person you once were?<p>

Yea Dee had a nice rack now, long blonde hair and a pretty face. Yes she had men who liked her and social skills that allowed her to have relatively normal conversations with relatively normal people. But there was always that crutch, that fucking person that still lived inside of her, and caused her to drink into the oblivion, to hang out with losers and serve as their punching bag. To bitch and whine and not even bother trying to achieve any goals and aspirations that probably died long ago. The aluminum monster kept her self-loathing and self-pitying.

That stupid Dee with the back-brace, oh how she hated her. On this thought, Dee took another shot.

"Yo how did the date go?" Mac barked when he arrived at Patty's. He had noticed her drinking already. Shots at ten in the morning was surely an indicator of a bad night.

Dee Reynolds slumped on the bartop, her blonde head a weight in her palm. "We slept together and he never called back." She slurred.

"Hah! I knew it!"

Dennis walked in carrying a crate of beer. "Knew what?"

"That Dee's pathetic and nobody wants her."

"Well we all knew that."

"Shut up you guys, okay?" she barked. Leaning over the bar she grabbed a bottle and poured herself another shot.

"Woah, a little early don't you think?" Frank Reynolds walked out of the basement, covered in dust and his thin bits of scraggly hair matted in sweat. Dennis furrowed his brow in concern and disgust.

"What the hell have you been doing down there in basement Frank?"

Frank shrugged. 'Mind your own god damn business. Killing rats, that's what."

"What?" Dennis said, "but you don't even have to do that. That's Charlie's job."

"Hey it's fun. Turns out the kid really has a great hobby." He glanced at his incredibly inebriated ex-daughter."Hand me a beer would ya Dee? All this rat-killing's got me parched."

"Get your own god damn beer."

"Deandra, honey, have you ever considered the possibility that if you didn't put out for your dates so quickly, they might call back?"

"Shut up assdick." she slurred. "Don't call me honey. You're not even my dad anymore."

Frank shrugged, as if he had done all he could and plodded behind the counter to get his own drink. Mac remained interested though. He scooted up beside her and dared to pull the tequila away from her flimsy grasp. "Maybe rat killing would be a better hobby for you than banging random dudes."

Dee mumbled something about 'Ronnie the Rat' from under her arms. Mac raised a brow, but pretended he didn't hear that as he took his own large chug from the bottle, because he felt satisfied nonetheless.


	3. Drunk and Punchy

**Chap 3: Drunk and Punchy**

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Chapter 3 rewrite

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><p>Mac dragged two stinking trash bags out to the back alley and dumped them among an ever-growing collection. The stench was overwhelming. The Sheriff of Paddy's flexed his barely-there muscles and cast a watchful eye over his surroundings, and then returned into the bar.<p>

The rest of the gang had gone home. Mac had just stayed behind to close up shop. This involved cleaning up, counting the profits for the day and – slipping a couple bills into his back pocket. It wasn't a lot, just a few dollars, but after a few months of doing this repeatedly, it added up handsomely.

Mac cackled to himself like a super villain, and suddenly, a wild looking Dee stumbled out of the bathroom. Mac nearly leapt out his skin, shutting the till in surprise. "Shit Dee! You're still here?"

Hair mussed and eyes bloodshot, achingly, she pushed herself into the stool. "What time is it?" her voice was raspy from drinking and puking and crying the entire day.

Mac's expression fell into annoyance. "Almost midnight. I assumed you left hours ago. You look like shit, Dee."

Dee ignored his insults, as she had adapted to do, and reached over the bar for a bottle of Jack. Mac smacked her hand away.

"Ow! What the hell!"

"No! That's it! I'm cutting you off! As your superior, I'm ordering you to stop being such an embarrassment. It's bad for business."

Your hair is stupid!" she shouted back, at a loss of energy for more impressive insult.

He chuckled, running a hand through his scraped back head of greasy locks. "Well that's simply not true. Everyone knows my hair is badass and awesome. It's the gangster look."

She furrowed her brows "What gang do you belong to, dickhole?" A pause.

"Please can I have that bottle of whisky?" Dee said, her big blue eyes wide and pleading. Mac's palms on the bar, in a firm and defensive stance, found himself falling into them.

If he were levelheaded enough to admit anything to himself, it would be that Dee was the only person he wanted to kiss and punch at the same time. He'd already done one- so if she ever offered herself to, he would do the other too.

And the thoughts swirled around his head like an obscure enigma because before he felt that familiar tingle in his dick from the shady thought, Dee had started speaking again.

"So…" Dee began, chugging on the bottle of Jack that was now in her possession. How did it get there? Did he hand it to her? That manipulative serpent. "I want to use this opportunity we have alone to bring something up with you."

Mac's throat was dry, "What?" Was the drink finally eroding her drunk punchy whore brain? Was she going to propose the unthinkable?

Dee's baby blues slid over knowingly. "So I know you've been staying behind late to steal money."

Mac blanched. Not exactly what he was expecting. "No." he swallowed. "No, not true."

"Can it asshole, I've known for months!" she shouted. "You know Frank would cut your balls off if he ever caught you, right?" Mac's head snapped up, frightened. Dee suddenly looked very self-satisfied.

He lowered his voice. "Okay. What are your demands in exchange for your silence?"

Dee looked him over thoughtfully. "I have a little situation, and you're going to get me out of it. Get in the car." She took one last chug of alcohol before grabbing her keys, "I'll explain on the way over there."


	4. Break-in

**Chapter 4: Break-in**

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><p>"So let me get this straight…" Mac threw his palms outwards for added emphasis. "…you want, <em>me<em>, to break into this chumps house and steal a tape?"

Dee rolled her blue eyes. "Yes! What about this plan aren't you getting?"

Mac and Dee sat in a beat-up dodge with Mac in the passenger's seat and Dee at the wheel. They were parked out on a sketchy street corner in downtown, past typically safe Philly evening hours.

"The part where you're out of your goddamn mind Dee - I'm not breaking into your bang-buddy's place just so he can beat the shit out of me!"

"First of all, he's not my bang-buddy, he was my _date_. From last night-"

"So it's a sex tape, I assume." Mac's startling clarity broke Dee's thoughts. She slid a look over at him. "No. Who told you? I mean – no!"

I knew it!" Mac snapped, clapping a fist to his palm with emphasis. "You go banging some dude, making a sex tape, and you need someone else to get you out of it. Why can't you get Dennis, or Charlie, or Frank to deal with this shit-"

"Because _you're_ the one I got a hold over, _you're_ the one stealing out the register. And now I'm calling in a bribe okay? You get that sex tape- I mean _tape-_ out of Joey's apartment and I won't tell the gang that you're a thief, and a liar!" Dee hissed out the threat in a breathless stream.

Leaning over him, she pushed open the car door. "Now go!" she shoved him. Mac frowned, glaring at her. "Ok! Ok! No need to get physical! I'm going! I'm going!"

Mac grunted, scrambled out of the car and into the winter Philly air. His mouth created cloud trails. He turned back at Dee, tucking his hands under his forearms. "How big is the guy anyway?"

"Not big." She lied, shrugging. "Okay, he's huge – he's got muscles. I met him at the gym, so if you get caught, you'll be pulverized like a piece of meat. Just… don't get caught! I'm shutting the car door now because it's really cold – oh and remember, it's your balls on a platter." Mac's scowl was met with a slam.


End file.
